Letting You
by wordspank
Summary: It doesn't matter what she's thinking about when he finds her, leaning against her vanity table. Warning: PWP


Warnings: Graphic depictions of sex, voyeurism, masturbation  
Notes: Prompt #067: Vanity Table

* * *

It doesn't matter what she's thinking about when he finds her, leaning against her vanity table. He sees Caroline's tongue run along her bottom lip and he stops dead in his tracks because he's caught her in a state of self-pleasure.

A deep state, he notes. But that doesn't mean he's going to turn around.

"I can come back," Klaus says, careful to keep looking at her face, and not at the incredible lines of her body he's seeing for the first time. Still, he can maintain his composure in a situation like this. Even if it's fast dispersing.

"No," she replies, her hand remaining cupped to herself. He tilts his head, curious. _No?_

Her legs turn inward slightly, but overall she seems unfazed by his presence, not humiliated in the slightest. Somehow it surprises him that she's doing nothing to cover the rest of herself. Especially from him, he who's promised to pursue her until the end of time. He, who's done everything to vindicate himself from being one who _threatens_, to one who _lets_.

He hungers for her. This should be common knowledge by now.

With that in mind, it's almost like she's presenting herself to him. It'd be a complete lie if he says that he doesn't want to breathe all that skin in.

_No, you don't have to come back,_ means, _Yes, you can stay._ This intrigues him. More than intrigues him; it _invites_ him.

Klaus' first instinct is to reach out and feel her, because touch is the one thing that they've done, but never pushed forward with. Linked arms, picked splinters from backs, fed. Touched, yes. But they've never felt.

And now, he wants to feel.

Within an inch of her, Caroline's knee angles away, gently meeting with his abdomen to pause his advance. The contact is more electric than he expects, extending all the way up into his chest; it takes large effort to not grab her in any way he can.

"Don't."

The rasp in her voice is desire part-fulfilled, lush in his ears. She looks up at him through her lashes with a faux innocence that he easily sees past; he likes this part of her. _You can't deceive me._

For that, Klaus bends forward to kiss her, but she brings her hand up and pushes a finger to his lips. "_No,_" she reiterates, knowing full well that he can smell the sex on it, feel the warm slickness. It's probably her intention, to throw him into a mad delirium. And a mad delirium he spirals into.

Letting out a mild breath, he surrenders to it - Klaus draws the slender finger into his mouth and he savors her, knuckle to tip.

It makes his cock start to ache with an interest, having Caroline on his tongue. God knows how many times he's thought of it before, dreaming up scenarios where she'd lift her skirt and he'd lower his face onto her sopping cunt to drink her up like he was thirsting.

He craves to know exactly what that's like.

Much to his protest, Caroline pulls her finger away, then grasps his chin. "Sit," she commands firmly, nails scraping the stubble on his face.

Rough. She's in the mood for rough, and Klaus twitches in his pants just thinking about the million ways he can treat her to the varying degrees of rough. If not for the darkness in her tone, he might have ignored her little demand and dropped to his knees to better acquaint himself with the taste of her. _We fuck on my terms,_ her meaning screams between the lines.

What he appreciates most about her audacious approach is that she no longer fears him. Equals, they're equals now. She can tell him to do whatever she wants because they have a mutual weakness for each other. Something nobody sees the need to discuss, but everybody is aware of.

So, alright. he'll listen.

Klaus sheds his coat, and takes his place at the edge of the bed, freely admiring her breasts and the way she runs her hands along their sides. Yes, he wants to graze his thumb over her nipples, hold the weight of each breast in his hand. He wants to set her soul alight with his hands, be joined to her, make her tremble. Make her come until she forgets where she is.

He watches her sit on the table with one foot on the chair and her other shifting the opposite way - she's giving him a better view. Her eyes are trained on him, while he follows where her hands move.

One finally locks beside her hip. Her free hand balls into a fist and is planted directly in front of her, restricting; Klaus stares inquisitively.

Caroline grants him a wry smile. "I'm not going to do this alone."

Oh. They're going to do this now, are they?

It's an easy enough decision, to get up, undress, and let her rake her gaze all over him, the same as he did when he sat on the bed. He's perfectly comfortable with that. In fact, he makes a show of unbuckling his belt and undoing his fly, stepping out of the straight-cut jeans he's wearing because she once told him that it made his ass look cute in her own backhanded, affectionate way.

Just a glance to check if she's observing - she is, quite intently - and Klaus fists his hard cock proudly, showing her how _she_ should go about touching him when the occasion arises.

There will be plenty. He'll ensure it.

She pauses for a second, eyes darting up and down the length of his body. "Some rules," Caroline begins, gaze settling on his hard-on. "We can kiss. But you can't touch me."

Because she wants to touch _herself_. And she wants to see him jerk off to the sight of her. Klaus' mouth goes dry just thinking about it.

"What if you touch me?"

She shakes her head. "I make the rules. They don't apply to me. If you can do that... maybe you can tell me what to do next time."

Next time. His mind is already swarming with ideas, from "open your mouth," to marking her with his teeth. He'll teach her his ways.

Caroline beckons him to come closer, and he obeys. Immediately, she captures his lips with her own, which, out of habit, he responds to by lifting his hands to her face. She swats them away with brute vampire strength and it forces Klaus to be hyper-aware of where he's standing, minding her legs, the chair, the table itself. Don't touch.

Her tongue slides over his as a distraction. There's a softness to it that teases the breath from him, reminiscent of the kiss that nearly led to their first time together. He smiles because he recalls that she was the one to say that it had been neither the right time or place, as if she wanted proper bloody arrangements to be made before it could happen.

Look at them now. He could almost laugh at how it's turned out. Maybe this _is_ the best time and the best place.

Klaus feels her breaking away from him and she looks down; he looks down with her. The lips of her folds glisten and he really wants to put his tongue there, or tilt his member and _push_. It'd be a perfect fit, he's sure of it.

"You didn't stop," he says, "when I came in."

"Did you expect me to?" She raises a brow, amused. "Thought I might just scream and run for cover? Pause my indecency because of you?" He's forgotten that the Caroline who paints banners, hosts pageants and heads committees is the same Caroline who embraces every blood-sipping, bone-cracking, fast-healing aspect of her vampirism, and baits him for fun.

"Never do that on my account," he replies. That's the last thing he wants.

Caroline smiles mischievously. "Why would I?" Her hand dips low. "I get to do this in front of you."

Klaus is transfixed by her parted legs, and she _touches_ herself in front of him, sliding her middle finger down across her clit, which makes her sigh. That little arch in her back as she leans away from him. He's going to study that curve, slide his hands over it. That'll be the bit that he caresses before he bends her over.

He wraps his hand around himself and tugs down.

That little bit of relief easing itself into his veins stems into pleasure. More.

His palm glides over the skin that begs for contact, air gathering in his throat and released in a steady exhale.

Caroline bites on her lip – she likes what she sees – and the patterns she draws on herself are the same patterns he traces with his tongue behind his teeth, memorizing. When she sinks a finger into herself, the sound of her moan rides to the base of his spine, travelling to the very tip of him. It makes his own fingers itch with temptation.

Klaus imitates her rhythm so he can imagine being inside of her. Slap of flesh. Pulsing. He lubes himself with precome as she adds another finger, sounding slippery and messy, travelling from clit, to inner lips, to _all the way in_ where he wants to be. Uncouth profanity leaves her as she plays with herself, muscles going taut as she reacts wildly to her own stimulation. Variety, he thinks. She likes variety.

He can hear it in her voice. I want you to fuck me like this. The hundreds of times they've flirted with their eyes can't compare to the intensity of how she's looking at him, not pleading, but telling him that she doesn't want gentle.

_Don't worry, love. I think I know how to make you scream._

When both fingers return to her clit, she turns her head away, caught in the sensation. Klaus leans over, panting on her neck, cupping his sac and feeling the pressure slowly build as his hand goes faster, hips inching forward.

It's almost too much to be poised over her without a chance of moving in.

Observant, Caroline starts to lick at his lip, sitting up, no longer leaning on her arm for support. Instead he feels her grab his hair, arm resting on the nape of his neck. The whole time while they kiss, he glances downward because he doesn't want to miss her coming - he wants to be familiar.

She's a vision when her orgasm crashes, throwing her head back. She pushes her breasts forward to meet his chest while her legs convulse, and he imagines that fucking her at this very moment will probably send him reeling.

"Klaus," she says once, clipping the end of his name, then plunges her fingers back into herself. "Kla-aus," she breaks it into half the second time.

He moans into her mouth because _fuck_, she sounds so very wet, and he can see her body tightening. He could just slide right into her right now. He could, but he doesn't.

He wants the _next time,_ and badly. Like _I'm not going to wait until tomorrow badly._

But this is quickly waning. His own palm is making quick work of himself, rubbing at points he'll tell her to concentrate on, white hot bliss filling every nerve. Coupled with what he sees and hears and is nearly begging to taste, Klaus is just about ready to give in.

Caroline purposely whimpers back, that neediness of it going through him like a shot to the heart. She whispers things like, "I wanna come again for you," and lets her knees rub either side of his hips, nails clawing his chest. Then her hand accidentally brushes against the head of his member. When he's _so close._

The pink of her tongue glides over the spot of wetness she's gotten on it, and he decides, quite quickly, that his own blurring hand is no longer enough. He's going to claim her as his.

It's her body, her quiver, her cry that makes the pleasure unfurl. The choke of her fingers is proving to be the tipping point for him, the trigger that forces his groan.

He can't_ not_ touch her. Just can't.

Refusing to play any longer, he shoves her wrist away, pinning her hip down before he angles his cock and spills right under her clit without warning.

That's not going to stop him. Nothing will.

Caroline welcomes it, back rising and nails scrabbling on wood, opening up to him. _Oh, yes, just spread yourself like that, love_. Her cry is a loud protest of his rebellion, but Klaus still pushes into her coming and growling together. He feels her heat and her walls and how wet she is around him, and the shudder tears through him, magnified when she pants and jerks her hips upward, onto him. It's just as good as he imagined.

Then she clenches. His jaw drops, hand around the base of his member, balls tight.

"Oh god-" Klaus cuts her off with a kiss, thrusting once. "_Oh._" The vanity table hits the wall with force.

Not enough. He sucks on his thumb and presses it to her swelling centre, enjoying her enthusiasm. "Like that?"

Definitely. She clings to him and bucks. Circles, quick swipes and spreading the heady mix of his seed and her juices across her sensitive nub brings her to the heights of another orgasm.

It feels so good when she pulses around his cock. He'll be thinking about this all day now. And the next. Maybe into the next week, when he's making conversation with Stefan about being alone. Except now he supposes that he's slowly slipping out of that category, isn't he?

Maybe he should put it to sketches.

"You lost at the last minute," Caroline announces throatily, running her hands through her matted fringe. Her chest is flush, and her lips are red. Oh, those lips. The things he has in store for them.

He shakes his head in disagreement. "I can tell when I've lost." He nods downward to their still connected bodies. "This isn't losing."

She pushes him back, and takes a deep, replenishing breath. "Get in the shower."

Klaus doesn't register this.

"You lost," she strolls toward the door, still gloriously naked, "but I didn't say that we were done."

Yes, he allows himself a crooked smile as she disappears from the room. _They're far from done._


End file.
